


Black Friday

by LokianaWinchester



Category: Absolution - Ramona Meisel
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 10:32:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15555813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: What happened the night after Yeshua was brought back. Mariam's POV.





	Black Friday

**Author's Note:**

> This was ROUGHLY inspired by a post by imagineyourhistoricalfigure on tumblr, saying "Imagine your favourite historical figure getting kissed on the cheek when they least expect it."

Mariam witnessed a lot of things happen at the same time when the van reached their camp. Everybody went from sitting frozen in terror, and grief to throwing themselves into action, because Yeshua was alive.

Yeshua was alive.

Thoughts crossed her mind too fast to really process them, but she too was being ripped away from overwhelming sadness and numbness by the tide of activity around her. Everybody was busy being helpful, the group working in a wonderous dynamic that had been tested and polished for years. With no place for Mariam. At least she felt that way, a heavy feeling of shame in her stomach as she stood there watching them hurry around Yeshua’s body.

Her eyes shifted towards the van. There was Judah, just as frozen as she was, his hands glistening bright red, dark splatters of blood were visible, even from a distance, all over his shirt. His eyes were empty.

Judah stared into the distance as if he could see what was to come, his expression not as blank as she had thought, but tormented, frightened.

She felt bad for him; with him.

Mariam watched Peter and Thad carrying the stretcher inside, a few of the others following close behind, the rest cleaning up the plastic packages of bandages they had left in the yard, strewn across the dry ground.

Finally Mariam regained use of her limbs and started walking, jogging over to the van. Her legs were shaky, as if they were on the verge of collapsing at any given moment, but desperation, as much as it wanted to break her and throw her down, also gave her the strength to make her way towards Judah, who only continued to stare. She climbed in, kneeled on the floor next to the boy. Looking at him from the side, his expression so broken, so vulnerable, he looked younger than ever and Mariam felt like she needed to comfort him somehow. Slowly, she laid her hand on his shoulder, when this got no reaction from him, she gripped harder, shook him, but Judah’s mind still seemed far away.

Mariam wanted to help, she saw the anguish in his features, recognised it like she was feeling it herself. She was, but she could not possibly imagine how bad it was for Judah. Shame sat in her chest like a growling beast, scratching and biting its way to her heart, because she was useless, there was nothing she could do to help.

“Please say something, Judah,” she pressed out. The air in her lungs seemed trapped there, her words barely held any strength. When she still did not get a reaction, she tried again.

“He’ll live, I’m sure. He has to live.” She was lying. Yeshua never had to do anything. His plan had been to die, after all, so why should he live?

Mariam wanted to throw up, the doubt joined the shame; they woke up something Mariam was fighting her most bitter fight against. Self-hatred was emerging from the depths of her mind and this time it was winning.

Terrified, she jumped off the van, running towards the building, stopped at the corner to lean against the wall. Her knees buckled under her and she fell, caught herself, sat hunched over, burying her face in her hands.

There was blood on them. There had been no way to avoid this, getting onto the back of the van. Mariam shuddered.

A light touch at her shoulder had her looking up in confusion.

“Come inside,” Simone smiled at her gently, not the overly motivated, wide grin Mariam was so used to seeing on her face, but something softer; she knew that this was what Mariam needed to see.

Simone let her hand wander to the small of her back, rubbing soothing circles as they walked inside. Mariam swallowed, did not dare to look back over to Judah for fear of seeing too much of her own pain and trepidations reflected back at her. She was shaking with suppressed feelings and unshed tears; although she had held her beliefs for far longer, she had only known Yeshua for a few days. Mariam did not think she could possibly conceive what Judah was feeling.

Everybody was crowding around the bed they had laid Yeshua down on. Mariam swallowed again. Her mind was racing. Her heart was racing as well, she felt jittery; her hands were shaking.

Peter stood up and murmured something to Barth, making his way over to Simone and spoke to her as well. Mariam heard the blood rushing in her ears when she peered through the gap that had formed when Peter stepped aside. She took one glimpse at Yeshua, then pressed her eyes shut, but the image was engraved in her mind. Yeshua’s skin was pale, far too pale to be healthy, he would look so peaceful, if it were not for the blood that was still staining the rags he was wearing, the skin on his chest, his hands almost up to his elbows, surrounding the bandages, that seemed to almost glow bright red. Like a warning, a blaringly crimson sign. It was a terrible sight and Mariam hated herself for being this weak.

Simone took her back outside, to sit down for a while. Others exited the room as well.

“They need to concentrate in there,” Simone explained. Mariam did not ask who, or what for. She did not dare.

A glimpse over to the van revealed that Judah was no longer alone. Thad had joined him; Mariam breathed just a bit easier after that.

* * *

 

Later that night it was all over. Everybody was exhausted, if not physically, then they were all the more shaken up on the inside. Mariam knew she was. They had taken out the bullets, made sure Yeshua was stable. At least as stable as he could be. Mariam had not been back inside to see him, she did not want the others to see her break.

It was quiet now, slumber had won over even the strongest of them. But Mariam could not close her eyes without seeing Yeshua, bleeding, dying, before herself. Quietly, she got up.

The room was dark, save for a single lamp near the headboard of the bed. Barth was passed out in an armchair next to the bed, sleep had even captured him. Mariam kneeled down next to the bed and looked at Yeshua.

He looked better. Maybe it was her imagination, maybe it was the fact that there was no more blood, maybe the crisp white of the bandages made his skin look less pale, less ashen, less dead.

Maybe, she allowed herself to think, he really was getting better. Gently, she reached out to brush a strand of hair from his face. The instant Mariam’s fingertips touched his skin, she felt like she was on fire. Incredulously, she touched him again. His skin was hot, raging with fever; it should not be unexpected but the heat of his skin burned down any hopeful thoughts she had harboured a second ago. She felt weak, could not hope, for if she did, the disappointment and grief may well overwhelm her. She took a deep breath when she noticed movement at her side.

Judah was sitting down, imitating her pose. He looked straight ahead, his eyes still empty, even when he looked directly at Yeshua.

It was more of an instinct that anything else, that made her lean over to him and gently lift a finger up to his chin. Judah instantly froze at the contact.

Mariam pressed her lips to the stubbly cheek gently, so as not to startle him, then pulled away.

She took another look at Yeshua and noticed his shallow breaths; she concentrated on the even movements, before she looked back up at Judah.

He had turned to look at her and for the first time since he got back, his eyes were no longer empty, his expression no longer blank.

It seemed as if Mariam’s gesture had set loose all those emotions, he had tried so hard to keep at bay. She saw terror in his eyes, she saw regret, grief, self-hatred and the tiniest shimmer of hope. She saw herself.

Judah let out a shivering breath, then reached out a hand to her. She took it, turned back to look at Yeshua; Judah did the same.

He was not ready to talk, that much was obvious, but now that he was feeling, he could start processing the events of the day. He was ready to open up.

Judah’s hand was warm, his grip strong, almost too strong, but Mariam did not care. He needed this, and Mariam had failed to help too often on this day to deny him this smallest of favours.

When she looked at him, the dim light of the lamp casting eerie shadows onto his face, she saw a tear rolling down his cheek. A silent sob ran through his whole body; Mariam squeezed his hand. The gentle press she got in return was reassuring.

“I don’t know him as well as you do,” she began speaking carefully. Judah turned just minimally to let her know he was listening. “but I know Yeshua is a fighter. He is, isn’t he?”

Judah nodded faintly.

“He’ll recover.”

It was not an expression of hope; it was a promise.

“What if he doesn’t?” Judah said; even his whisper was choked and insecure.

“Then we have each other,” she assured him, clasping her other hand over Judah’s as he wanted to pull it back when another sob wracked through him. After a second, he stopped struggling.

“Watch him breathe.”

Judah did. Mariam knew he did; after a minute or two, his sobs started to subside, he calmed down.

Mariam was still feeling terrible, but she was beating the shame into a corner, throttling the doubt by its thin, ugly neck and finally, she slammed the doors shut into the face of self-hatred. She had other things to worry about. Just as she was taking a deep breath, trying to form a working plan for their immediate future, Judah leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. The touch was delicate and soft.

Mariam smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, as always kudos and especially comments are more than welcome <3


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